A Puericil Journey

A Puericil Journey 7

[12,927 words]

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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A PUERICIL JOURNEY - PART SEVEN

Helen's Journal

A nice little chat about what Owen wanted for his birthday over an informal meal in the kitchen should have been fun and stress free, or so you would have thought. Sadly he had other ideas.

"Mum, please! Jamie’s older cousin has one, and he says they're totally safe if you wear a helmet," he pleaded, his voice shifting into that desperate tone he uses when he thinks he his argument will be more convincing if really emphasized with passion. I just shook my head, the decision already firm in my mind. The roads around here are too busy, people drive like idiots, and Owen still has that impulsive streak that Puericil is supposed to be tempering.

"It’s too dangerous, Owen. Absolutely not. We can look at a regular scooter, or maybe a new bike, but not an electric scooter I'm sorry."

The shift in him was instantaneous. The logical negotiator vanished, replaced by a raw, jagged frustration that seemed to vibrate off him in waves. "A bike is boring! Everyone has a bike!" he snapped, his face flushing a deep, blotchy red. He tried one last desperate appeal, his voice rising, but when I told him my answer wouldn't change regardless of how loud he got, he completely lost it.

"Fine! I don't want anything then!" he screamed. It was a meltdown. In a sudden, violent blur of motion, he swept his arm across the table. His ceramic plate, still holding a few crumbs of a biscuit, flew through the air and landed in the sink with a deafening, bone-jarring crack . Shards of white porcelain exploded in the sink, one portion even being ejected on to the kitchen window sill.

"I didn't mean it to smash!" said Owen, but even this was shouted at me.

The silence that followed the crash was heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip of water from the sink where the remnants of the plate lay scattered. I looked at Owen, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and sudden regret. For a moment, I just stared at him, feeling a cold, hard knot of patience finally snap. I had been far too lenient lately, allowing the "gentle" approach of Puericil to do the heavy lifting, but some things still required a more traditional, tactile correction.

I had toyed with the idea of buying a proper paddle for these sorts of serious offences, but since there hadn’t really been that many of them I hadn't got round to it yet and was unprepared. As I scanned the kitchen, my eyes landed on the junk drawer below the microwave. Tucked beneath some old menus and a broken stapler was a relic from my own school days: a thick, sturdy wooden ruler, yellowed with age but good enough for the task. I retrieved it, the weight of the wood feeling authoritative in my hand.

"Bedroom. Now," I commanded, my voice low and devoid of any reassuring warmth. "And you know the drill, Owen. Strip down. I want you completely exposed so there's nothing to muffle the lesson."

Owen’s face paled. He knew that tone. He shuffled toward his room, the bravado of the meltdown evaporating into a whimpering compliance. By the time I entered, he was waiting for me, stripped bare and trembling slightly, looking heart breakingly vulnerable against the duvet. I didn't waste time with further lectures; the broken plate had spoken for the mood of the evening. I guided him over my lap, the wooden ruler whistling through the air as it met the plush curve of his backside.

Thwack!

The ruler met his skin with a sharp, clinical crack that echoed in the small room, instantly cutting through Owen’s protests. He let out a strangled yelp, his fingers gripping the duvet for dear life. I didn't let up, maintaining a steady, rhythmic pace.

Thwack!

Thwack!

“Do you understand why you are being punished?” I asked.

“Yes Mummy” he whimpered.

“I hope you will remember your lesson.”

Thwack!

Each strike landed with a precise sting that left a blossoming heat across his cheeks. By the seventh stroke, the defiance had completely drained from him, replaced by a series of rhythmic, shuddering sobs. By the tenth, he was crying but still occasionally telling me to stop as though it was his choice. Not wanting to harm him, I decided that he'd had enough of the ruler.

In any case, while clearly effective, the ruler felt too impersonal. Setting it aside, I shifted my grip. The ruler had been the formal penalty, but the hand-spanks were for the emotion of the moment. I didn't count these; I simply let the weight of my palm land with a heavy, stinging thud, over and over, until it felt like the right amount. I worked across the swell of his backside, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my hand, continuing until the red glow of the punishment matched the intensity of my own satisfaction. Only when his cries shifted from anger to a soft, pleading whimper of apology did I finally stop.

"You're acting like a spoiled toddler, Owen," I told him, my voice returning to a calm, almost soothing cadence. "And since you want to behave like one, you can be treated like one."

I reached for the nightstand and produced a baby’s dummy, an idea I'd read about in Puericil groups online. I’d expected the sight of it to provoke another fight, but Owen was spent, his spirit dampened by the discipline. I pressed the teat to his lips, and he opened his mouth with a defeated sigh, sucking on it instinctively as he looked away from me. "Keep that in," I commanded. "I want you to think about your childish behaviour while you sit with your thoughts."

The silence of the room was thick, broken only by the rhythmic, wet sound of Owen sucking on the dummy. As I stood over him, watching his small frame curl into a ball on the duvet, a complicated surge of emotion washed through me. There was a lingering sting of guilt, a whisper in the back of my mind telling me that this was perhaps too much, too mean. Yet, beneath that guilt was a spark of something entirely different: a quiet, humming thrill. There was an intoxicating power in this total reversal of his attitude, in seeing Owen reduced to a state of complete, helpless dependency. The sight of him, stripped of his pride and his clothes, submitting to a baby’s pacifier was oddly moving.

I stepped out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts, though the image of him huddled there lingered in my mind. I spent the next twenty minutes in the hallway, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply, trying to reconcile the mother who felt sorry for him with the disciplinarian who was trying to raise him well. Had I gone too far?

When I finally pushed the door open again, the room was bathed in the soft, orange glow of the bedside lamp. The storm of the evening had passed. "Alright, Owen," I whispered, my voice regaining its normal warmth. "You can take the dummy out now. Your punishment is over."

There was no response. I leaned over the bed and saw that the tension had completely drained from his body. He had fallen fast asleep, his breathing deep and steady, the dummy still firmly lodged in his mouth. His eyelashes fluttered slightly in his sleep, and his expression was one of profound innocence, stripped of the adolescent angst and the burden of being 'the man of the house.' In his slumber, the gap between his chronological age and his physical appearance seemed to vanish entirely; he looked like a young child who had simply been exhausted by a long day of play.

I reached down and gently kissed his forehead, a small, triumphant smile playing on my face. I tucked the duvet tightly around his shoulders, cocooning him in a way that felt both protective and possessive. As I walked toward the door, I felt a sense of peace. The discipline had been harsh, perhaps, but the result was a quiet, compliant boy who no longer felt the need to fight the world. I glanced back one last time, already wondering if the dummy should become a more permanent fixture of his evening routine.

Owen’s Journal

I haven't written for a few days now. I haven't felt like I had much to say. Since the last entry, nothing to much out of the ordinary happened at school or at home. I got a couple of spankings from Mum, but you know how those go by now. The first one wasn't a bad one, just a quick one for kicking my dirty school uniform under my bed instead of putting it in the laundry basket, so it missed the wash when Mum did it. I have more than one set of uniform so I really didn't see what the big deal was, but I guess I probably won't do it again. But I only got ten spanks and no corner time, so that's pretty easy for me. The other one was a bit worse and I got spanked with a ruler. I probably deserved that one, I don’t know. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about it.

One or two embarrassing or weird things have happened since I started school, but I’ve decided not to tell Mum or Amy anymore. Firstly, I'm tired of telling them embarrassing things. Second, I don't really have any hope they can or will do anything to stop embarrassing things happening to me. Well perhaps, I'm being harsh. Louisa hasn’t bothered me again, for example.

Fortunately, good stuff keeps happening to me too. Stuff like Jamie. And I have sort of made friends with Zac from the swim team too, though I haven't yet seen much of the other two boys I told you about since. But now I have three definite friends and two more possibles, and unlike Jamie and Jayden, Zac is popular so might be able to get me in with the others.

One thing I will say though, is I will not make friends with anyone if they have a problem with Jamie or Jayden. I really don't know why Jamie isn't more popular, but I guess I had my own run-ins with the in-crowd at my old school. If you're a free spirit you don't always fit in, and I love that Jamie is a free spirit. Jayden is just depressed and I feel bad for him, but a couple of times last week I was able to get him to chat about stuff that makes him happy and it was nice to see a bit of spark in his eyes.

Another good thing happening now is my birthday tomorrow. Speaking of Jayden, I feel sooo bad that I didn't invite him, but Jamie made a big fuss about it being just us. Which really shouldn't be his decision to make, but I caved because he wasn't saying anything bad about Jayden or Zac. He just seemed really excited for us to hang out for the day by ourselves. I'm cool with that, other than feeling bad for not inviting my other friends.

Anyway, I'm excited about it. I can't wait really, even though Mum has made it clear I won't be getting an E-Scooter (which is what I asked for). But we are going to the beach. We're not rich enough to live by the beach but we are lucky enough to be only thirty minutes drive away. Strangely though, Mum said we wouldn't be going to our usual, local, beach. Instead we're driving three hours down the coast and staying in a hotel. I thought that was a bit odd, but it will be nice to see somewhere I've not been.

The reason we're going there turns out to be that it's a Puericil friendly beach. You can imagine how my heart sank at that.

"But why do we have to go to some stinky Puericil beach instead of a proper one?" I kicked the car seat in front of me, immediately regretting it when Mum's eyes flashed warning in the rearview mirror.

She exhaled through her nose. The slow, measured breath that meant she was choosing patience. "It is a proper beach, Owen. Just because it has facilities for Puericil families doesn't mean it's not a real beach. It has sand, and the sea, the same as all the others. " Her fingers tightened on the wheel. "It isn't just for Puericil families either, everybody goes there, but it is Puericil friendly. They have changing rooms and toilets for Puericil boys...."

"I can go to any old toilet!" I interrupted, slouching lower.

Amy snorted from the passenger seat, but Mum ignored her.

"No you cannot. At home, yes, but no way am I letting you go into a public toilet with who knows who may be there and I can't come in to make sure you are safe. You are vulnerable, Owen. And you're too old to come into the ladies with me. But we can both go into the Puericil facilities.

"Great, so for my birthday, I can look forward to being treated like a moron with learning difficulties and to you coming to the toilet with me?"

"Don't be rude to Mum, Owen" stuck her nose in-ed Amy.

"You shut up and mind your own business!"

"Owen! Both of you, please! " Mum sighed, "Look Owen, You will have a great day, it's a perfectly normal beach other than a few extra things to help us. They have shaded rest areas with hydration stations," she continued evenly. "and lifeguards trained to recognize Puericil side effects, overheating, overwhelm. Things that matter when you're on medication that alters your body's responses to things." She glanced at me in the mirror, her expression softening. "It's not a lesser beach, love. Just one where you will fit in and be safer."

Well, the conversation did continue a bit longer, but you get the gist. Tonight is my birthday-eve and it feels pretty exciting. We're watching a movie together and have popcorn so it will feel like the cinema! I’ll probably write next the day after my birthday to tell you about it. I’ll be too busy tomorrow.

HELEN'S JOURNAL

I've had a busy few days preparing for Owen's birthday. We're going to Perrow Beach for the day. Owen got a bit upset with me when I let slip that it's a Puericil friendly beach. Actually that isn't the only reason we're going there. It is part of the reason. Our local beach is always crowded with teenagers and I don't particularly want Owen bumping into kids from his old school who might give him a hard time. And there's a lot of peace of mind from choosing a Puericil beach.

I think Owen had it in his head that it was like his school - Puericil only. Actually it's just a great, regular family beach that happens to have some really good support in place for Puericil families. As I said, I have other reasons for choosing Perrow. Owen asked for and electric scooter for his birthday. I couldn't get him one of those for obvious reasons, it was a non-starter. Yes, Owen sulked at hearing this and pretty much refused to come up with a plan B. I have got him some games and a ticket to see a show, but I felt it wasn't much. So I thought I'd book some "experiences" for him, and I happened to be able to book them at Perrow. We're doing a dolphin spotting boat ride as a family, and I've also booked a power boat ride for Owen and Jamie. I'm a bit worried about that, but I think he'll like it.

For now that's obviously a secret so I couldn't tell him when he was arguing about going there but I hope it will all be worthwhile tomorrow!

He did calm down soon enough, and the three of us sat around the kitchen table, the remains of Owen’s favourite pasta dish strewn across our plates. He’d been quiet at first, pushing food around with his fork in that sullen way he does when he’s trying hard to stay angry so that I don't think I'm forgiven. But then Amy, the little chaos agent, lobbed a bread roll at his head.

It hit his forehead with a soft thunk . Owen froze. For a heartbeat, I thought the evening would disintegrate into further sulks. Then his mouth twitched. A single, irrepressible giggle escaped, and just like that, the tension shattered.

"Right, That's means war," he announced solemnly, flicking some pasta at Amy’s nose.

What followed was five minutes of glorious, ridiculous anarchy—peas catapulted via spoon, napkins balled into missiles, Owen attempting to stick a breadstick up Amy's nose while she cackled, and fortunately, fought him off. The meal was collateral damage. I should’ve scolded them. Instead, I laughed until my ribs ached. What could I do? I couldn't spank Amy, nor could I spank one and not the other, so I joined in. They turned on me instantly and I soon surrendered! At least we were already half way through the meal before the rest ended up on the floor. I won't be taking them to any fancy restaurants any time soon!

It's just as well I had a load of popcorn ready to watch a movie with. I even put it in cardboard boxes to make it seem more like being in a movie theatre. Owen got to choose the film, being the almost-birthday boy. He chose to watch Thunderbolts. The problem with that was that while Owen is old enough to watch it, Amy technically isn't. But I had a quick look at IMDB's parent's guide (I admit with Owen in mind as much as Amy) and decided it should be OK.

Amy lasted exactly twenty-seven minutes before the fidgeting began. By the forty-minute mark, she was upside down on the sofa, braiding the tassels of a throw pillow.

"I'm bored, " she announced to the ceiling, kicking her legs.

"Then go," Owen muttered without looking away from the screen, "no one’s making you stay."

"Sweetheart," I said, "it’s Owen’s birthday birthday weekend..."

"It’s fine," Owen interrupted. His fingers tightened around the blanket pooled in his lap. "I don’t mind if she goes."

Amy flounced off with an exaggerated sigh, leaving Owen and me alone in the dim glow of the television. He didn't look at me when I scooted closer, but he didn't move away either. He just kept his eyes glued to the screen like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Room for one more under there?" I asked, nudging the edge of the blanket pooled around his hips.

Owen hesitated a moment before lifting the corner with a shrug. I took it as the victory it was, tucking myself against his side, careful not to jostle my popcorn. His was already long since finished. His body heat seeped through my sweater immediately, and after a minute, I felt the tentative weight of his head against my shoulder.

"That's gotta hurt," he muttered, and I realised I wasn't watching the film, but watching him watching it.

A while later, the movie credits rolled, casting shadows across Owen’s face as he slumped against me, his eyelids heavy. For a moment, he looked so young—cheek smushed against my shoulder, fingers loosely curled in the blanket. It was easy to forget the battles we’d fought that day, the sulks and protests, when he melted into me like this.

“Bedtime,” I murmured, brushing his hair back.

He groaned, but it lacked conviction. “Five more minutes?”

“It’s already past your bedtime, mister.” I nudged him upright, ignoring his theatrical sigh. “Come on. Big day tomorrow.”

Having navigated the bedtime routine and tucked Owen in for the night, I lingered by his door for a moment, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he fought off sleep.

"Are you looking forward to your birthday tomorrow?" I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to wake him fully if he was already drifting off.

His eyes snapped open instantly, any trace of drowsiness gone. "Yeah," he admitted, voice hushed but unmistakably eager. He shifted under the covers, restless with excitement. "I know I was grumpy about the beach thing, but I am looking forward to it now."

I smiled at that, reaching down to brush his hair back from his forehead. "Good," I murmured. "Because I want it to be special for you."

Owen hesitated, then suddenly caught my wrist before I could pull away. "Mum?" His grip was loose, but there was something earnest in his expression.

"What is it, love?" I kept my voice soft, surprised by his sudden grip. There was a tension in His fingers, not quite nervousness, but something hesitant.

Owen swallowed hard. He stared at the ceiling instead of me. "Do you... do you think Dad would've put me on Puericil?"

I was not expecting that. I froze, my breath catching. How long since he'd walked out, and still, his ghost haunted every corner of our lives. Owen hadn't asked about him in so long, but I guess I should have seen it coming on his birthday. I had not even heard from his father about his birthday, by the way.

I sat carefully on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. "Oh, Owen." My thumb traced circles on the back of his hand, buying time. What did he want me to say? The truth? A lie? Something in between? "Probably not. Does that make me the bad guy?"

"No. I didn't do a good enough job when he left."

Oh, my boy. My heart ached. "Listen to me," I said, tipping his chin up. "You were a child. You were never supposed to be the man of the house. That was my job, and I failed you by letting you think you had to take that on."

"But…"

"No. Look at me." I waited until his eyes met mine. "You weren't too much for me to handle, Owen. You were grieving. And I was too lost in my own grief to see it." I brushed his fringe back, my fingers lingering. "This…the drug, the rules, all of it…it's not punishment. It's a second chance. For both of us."

"OK."

My throat ached. "Every day, I'm scared I'll mess it up again. That I'll wake up one day and you'll be grown, and I'll have missed my chance to do better."

"I'm not grown yet. But tomorrow is my birthday...."

"It is, and you will have a wonderful day, I promise."

OWEN'S JOURNAL

I woke up really early yesterday because it was my birthday! The second my eyes cracked open, I shot upright and went downstairs. I didn't even remember to take my pull up off first. which I usually do before anyone sees me. As long as it's dry, which it was. But anyway, I forgot and ran straight downstairs.

I had pancakes for breakfast and got my presents. No scooter, but I'd gotten over that by yesterday morning so I wasn't too disappointed. I was a bit worried that I'd messed up by not asking for anything else in a bit of a sulk, but Mum got me some decent presents, and she also gave me some tickets for stuff we did later in the day, like a boat ride. But I'm getting ahead of myself. At that point I couldn't wait for Jamie to turn up so we could go and get on with it but I went to brush my teeth and get ready.

Eventually his Mum knocked the door, dropped Jamie off and left, after first insisting on giving me a birthday hug unfortunately.

Jamie burst through the front door like a popped balloon, his arms already outstretched. "Happy birthday!" he shouted, launching himself at me with enough force to nearly knock me backward. I barely had time to register the crumpled paper bag clutched in his fist before he was squeezing me tight, his chin digging into my shoulder.

He pulled back, grinning, and shoved the paper bag at my chest. "I made you cookies!"

I peeked inside. Three lumpy biscuits sat nestled in grease-stained paper, their chocolate chips melted into odd little craters. One had a lopsided "14" piped in what looked like toothpaste.

"Er...thanks," I said, "I didn't know you baked cookies?"

"Well, I never have before. AND, I got you something else! Come outside!"

He dragged me out the front door by the hand. Propped against the side wall was only an electric scooter!

I stared at the scooter, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. The sleek black frame gleamed under the morning sun, the handlebars wrapped in neon green grip tape—my favorite colour. Well, Green is anyway. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to touch it, but part of me was convinced this was a joke. "That’s... for me?" I croaked.

Jamie bounced on his toes. "Duh! Do you see anyone else here turning fourteen today?" He shoved my shoulder playfully. "Do you like it?"

I couldn’t even speak. My throat tightened weirdly as I ran a hand along the scooter’s deck. It was real. It was mine.

"It’s the best present I’ve ever had," I whispered, and I meant it!

Jamie squealed and clapped his hands. "Yes! I knew you’d love it! I was sooo scared you’d wouldn't!"

I didn't even notice that he contradicted himself until I just wrote that. I was far too happy to care.

"How did you even get this?" I blurted, cutting him off. My brain was still catching up. Electric scooters are pretty expensive.

Jamie's grin faltered for the first time, his fingers twisting together. "I saved up all my money for weeks," he admitted, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. "And to be honest it still wasn't anywhere near enough, but Mummy bought it and I'm going to pay her back!" His voice pitched higher, defensive. "It's not a very expensive one, sorry, but the best I could do."

I stared at him, at his flushed cheeks and the way his shoulders hunched slightly, like he was bracing for disappointment. It was pretty nice of Jamie to save his money to get me something, wasn’t it?

"It's perfect," I reassured him, "I mean it. Best present ever."

Jamie's whole face lit up like I'd plugged him into a charger. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

"Would I lie about something like that?" I smiled. Before I could stop myself, I yanked him into another hug, squeezing tight enough to make him squeak. "Thanks, Jamie. Seriously."

"You're welcome!"

"Oh, one thing, though. My Mum said I couldn't have one. Come to think of it you already know that!"

"Yes. Of course, I didn't tell Mummy that, so you mustn't tell her or your mum that I knew, please? I told Mummy that your Mum just couldn't afford one."

I briefly felt annoyed on Mum's behalf, but it was hard to stay mad at him, even for a second.

"Right, and you must also NOT let my Mum know that. In fact, find some way to make sure your Mum doesn't say that to my Mum. She'll be even more mad if she finds that out."

"Don't worry, Mummy won't say. She thinks it would embarrass your Mum."

"It would, not least because it's not true. Oh, Jamie, you are nuts but I'm glad you are."

I'm not going to spoil my account of my awesome day by telling you about having to tell Mum about the scooter. She wasn't happy, but I think I got off lightly because it was my birthday, and because well, I didn't know Jamie was going to buy it after all, did I? She did say I can only ride it off road and away from streets. And that we'll talk about it again, but let's not worry about that now.

We didn't have long to talk about it anyway because it was time to pile into the car and go! All three of us kids squashed into the back of mum's not-very-big-car because she doesn't like us being in the front when she drives on the motorway, and I wanted to sit next to Jamie anyway. Yes, Amy came with us. I couldn't not invite her after all.

***

I got so lucky with the weather at this time of year. It was unusually hot for September and as soon as I stepped out of the air-conditioned car I was hit with a blast of warm air. Perfect for the beach! We had a bit of a trek to the beach where we settled in a nice secluded spot in the dunes, above the main beach. Jamie was his usual excitable self next to me, already tugging at his t-shirt hem. "Come on ," he whined impatiently, "let's go in the sea!"

He yanked his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and shucked off his shorts revealing crimson swim briefs underneath.

I froze mid-undress, my own shirt tangled around my elbows. " Are those speedos?"

Jamie's hands fluttered to cover himself, then aborted the movement halfway with a shrug. "It's what Mummy got for me," he mumbled, toeing at the sand.

Straight away some teasing remark popped into my head, but it died in my throat when I saw the way Jamie's shoulders tensed. His fingers curled into the sides of his thighs, knuckles whitening against the red fabric. I would have had something snarky to say for sure a few months ago. Instead, I heard myself say, "I guess it's just as well you look good in them."

Jamie's head snapped up. His cheeks flushed darker than his swim briefs. "Really?" he squeaked, then immediately looked mortified at his own reaction. He spun in a clumsy circle, arms flapping. "I mean—they're practical! Less drag in the water, and…"

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, yanking my own shirt off with more force than necessary in an effort to look manly while I inwardly cringed at my comment. Why had I said that? Complimenting another boy's appearance… I hoped nobody heard.

Jamie did, but he didn't seem bothered by it. In fact he seemed pleased. "You look nice too!" he announced, gesturing at my palm-tree patterned light blue swim shorts.

I decided to duck out of replying to that. Instead I asked Mum if we could go in the sea.

"Of course you can angel," Mum said, digging through the beach bag, "but first things first—sunblock." She pulled out the bottle with a triumphant noise and squinted at Jamie, who was already hopping from foot to foot like he might bolt for the waves any second. "Amy, sweetheart, can you help?"

Amy brightened immediately. "Can I do Jamie?" she asked, already reaching for the bottle.

Mum hesitated. "No, you do Owen. I think I should take care of Jamie."

Amy shrugged and turned to me with a smirk. "Arms up, birthday boy," she chirped, squeezing a glob of lotion into her palm.

Amy's fingers were cold against my shoulders as she smeared sunblock in wide, lazy circles. The lotion smelled like coconuts and chemicals, clinging stickily to my skin. Jamie stood obediently still next to me while Mum rubbed white streaks into his back, his crimson speedos bright against his pale thighs. Finally, Amy had done my whole body. Almost.

"There," Mum said, capping the bottle. "Shorts down, boys."

My hands flew to my waistband instinctively. "What?"

Jamie giggled nervously beside me, fingers twisting in the elastic of his swim briefs.

Mum sighed, rummaging through the beach bag again. "Puericil boys are allowed to go nude here," she said matter-of-factly, pulling out a fresh bottle of sunscreen. "I want to make sure you're covered in case you do."

"There's literally no chance of that," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. The thought of stripping completely even in our relatively private spot in the dunes was bad enough. The idea I might be frolicking about in public naked was a non-starter.

Jamie nudged me with his elbow, grinning. "It might be fun to swim naked?" His voice pitched up at the end like it was a question.

"Absolutely not," I hissed, shooting him a look that I hoped conveyed how insane he was being.

Mum sighed, shaking the sunscreen bottle. "Boys, we don’t have all day. Amy?"

Before I could react, Amy’s hands were at my waist, yanking my shorts down to my knees in one swift motion. The cool sea air hit my bare skin, and I gasped, scrambling to cover myself. Next to me, Jamie yelped as Mum did the same to him, his crimson briefs pooling around his ankles.

Amy's fingers circled my buttocks with clinical precision, scooping up another glob of sunscreen. The lotion squelched as she smeared it across my right cheek, her thumb pressing into the dimple just above my thigh. "Hold still," she murmured, spreading it in slow, teasing circles. "Wouldn't want you to burn back here."

I clenched my jaw, staring fixedly at the dunes. A warm hand suddenly gripped my hips from behind, Amy pulling me backward until my bare buttocks brushed against her knees. "Turn around," she ordered.

I turned to find Jamie already facing Mum, standing obediently still as her hands applied lotion to his pubic area.

"Arms up, Owen," Amy instructed, snapping me back to my own humiliation. My hands trembled as I raised them, palms facing outward like a surrender. The sea breeze prickled my exposed skin as Amy's fingers trailed down my stomach, gathering sunscreen.

I risked another glance sideways just as Mum's fingers glided lower, circling the base of Jamie’s soft penis with casual familiarity. Jamie let out a little gasp but he didn't protest as Mum lifted his shaft between thumb and forefinger, applying lotion in slow, thorough strokes.

As I stared at them Amy was working away and I started to get a stiffy. Once it starts to wake up, it goes from asleep to wide awake in about four seconds, which is a problem when it starts to wake up and you don't want it to.

"Well," Amy said, voice dripping with amusement, "good thing you’re not in speedos like Jamie."

Jamie giggled beside me but he seemed to have a similar problem. Mum barely glanced up from her work. "Almost done, sweetheart," she murmured to him, oblivious to my humiliation.

Since Amy was finished, I grabbed my shorts with shaking hands, yanking them up carefully over myself. The fabric tented uncomfortably against sensitive skin, and I would need to sit for a bit before we could go anywhere.

Mum finally announced she was finished with a smack to Jamie's butt! I don't know why she did something embarrassing like that.

Amy tossed the sunscreen bottle at my chest with a smirk. "Your turn." The plastic thudded against my ribs before I caught it, warm from her hands.

Jamie giggled beside me, still flushed from his own lotion application. "Make sure you get it everywhere ," he teased, waggling his eyebrows like a cartoon villain.

I rolled my eyes but knelt behind Amy as she settled on our beach towel. Her sundress straps slipped down her shoulders—pale fabric pooling around her waist—but the crisscross ties kept everything securely covered in front. I did my best to cover her back as I didn't want her to burn and it be my fault, but of course, I didn't get to see her naked. I never do.

HELEN'S JOURNAL

Owen woke at dawn, which is still very early at this time of year. I heard the creak of his bedroom door at 5:37 AM, but he waited with uncharacteristic patience until seven to burst into my room. "It's my birthday!" he announced when I groaned at the early hour. Fair enough.

The early morning went very well, although I had to rush about getting ready for our trip in between making pancakes and giving Owen his presents.

Jamie turned up with a an electric scooter for Owen. You can imagine how this made me feel. It wasn't easy to say no to Owen on that, but clearly it was a stupid idea for him to have something so dangerous. Now, not only am I going to have to be the bad guy again when I explain to him how rarely he will actually get to use it, but also I feel that my presents have been upstaged. You might think, that's a bit selfish, or silly, but gift giving is an act of love and for me, well it was hurtful, let's leave it at that for now and move on.

Judith did catch my eye through the window and had the decency to look sheepish, mouthing “ We'll talk later” before fleeing down the driveway. Later on she did text me: He saved for weeks. Couldn't break his heart. Have a lovely day. The rational part of me understood but the mother in me seethed at being undermined and upstaged.

I got lost on the way to the beach, but it was only a short detour before I found my way there. The weather was perfect for us although the beach was very busy with people making the most of the last of summer.

Straight away the boys wanted to go in the water. Amy and I wanted to catch some sun first, but one of the reasons we came to a Puericil friendly beach is that I could let them go off by themselves, under strict conditions of course. They were to not go out of my sight, or outside the area flagged by the lifeguards. In fact, I must admit that in the end I was a bit lapse in keeping an eye on them. I trusted the lifeguards and wanted to relax too.

I had to make sure we were all topped up with sun block before anything else happened and we all helped each other with that. I chose to help Jamie and delegated Owen to Amy.

There was a reason for this. I'm not proud of myself, but it felt nice to get my own back on Judith. In fact, I’m sure that she wouldn't have cared a bit. Probably, she would have expected me to do this for Jamie. All the same it was nice to get my hands on him at last, after she had been very "hands on" with Owen.

Another reason, and I can't believe I'm telling you this, but Jamie is a nice looking boy. He is shorter than Owen, with the very pale skin of a redhead, but has a naturally muscular body, like a swimmer's, or in his case a dancers. He is a nice boy and I made sure to look after him well today but I also enjoyed running my hands over him in the name of protecting that pale skin from the sun. Owen has naturally olive skin like Amy and myself, but I still make sure we are all safely protected from sun damage.

Jamie stood obediently still before me, arms slightly lifted like the well-trained little puppy he is. The sunscreen bottle hissed as I squeezed a thick white stripe down the bumps of his spine. "Did you sleep well last night, sweetheart?" I asked, spreading the lotion in slow circles across his shoulder blades. His skin was warm beneath my fingers and he flinched just slightly at the first application of the cold cream.

"Yes, Mrs. Hicks!" His voice chirped with that particular Jamie-brand brightness. "Mummy let me stay up late packing my beach bag!"

I hummed in response, working the lotion down to the dimples above his swim briefs. "And what did you pack, hmm?"

"A snorkel. And two towels!" Jamie announced as if it were a grand achievement. "The blue one's for sitting and the yellow one's for drying because Mummy says sand sticks to wet ones." His arms lifted higher when I nudged them, letting me glide sunscreen down his triceps.

Jamie's chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths as I smoothed sunscreen over his chest. "Did you pack your goggles?" I asked, thumb circling one pink nipple absentmindedly. His skin pebbled instantly under my touch.

"Uh-huh!" He nodded vigorously, his hair flicking, "But I think I'll just use the snorkel."

"Ah, why not?"

The sunscreen bottle hissed again as I squeezed another thick ribbon down Jamie's spine—this time lower, following the dip of his lumbar curve where his swim briefs clung. His skin was smoother here, untouched by the sparse freckles dusting his shoulders.

"Turn around, sweetheart," I murmured, nudging his hip. Jamie pivoted obediently, his crimson swim suit riding up slightly as he faced the sea. His fingers twisted together at his waistline while I knelt before him, squeezing lotion onto my palm. The first touch to his thigh made him flinch, not from cold, but from the unexpected intimacy of an unfamiliar hand gliding down his quadriceps.

I slowed my strokes, noticing how his breath hitched when my thumb brushed the sensitive hollow behind his knee. "Ticklish?" I teased, swirling patterns into the lotion. Jamie giggled—that high, breathless sound he made when embarrassed, and shook his head in a blatant fib.

"Right boys," I announced, "we need to do the rest of you, shorts down please."

Owen grumbled and protested even after I explained why I needed to ensure all of them was covered. In the end I noticed Amy had to yank his shorts down to his knees, though he behaved himself after that.

There were was no such drama from Jamie, who without a fuss turned around and pulled his swim suit all the way to the floor, bending over as he did so without any self-consciousness. I won't say without any shame, because why should be ashamed? I wondered if Owen would ever feel less self-conscious about his body while I rubbed lotion into Jamie's nice little bottom, taking plenty of time over it.

"Turn around please, darling" I asked.

The moment Jamie turned to face me, his swim briefs pooled around his ankles, I couldn't help but notice how...developed he was for a boy his age. Even soft, his penis was impressively proportioned.

I squeezed more sunscreen into my palm and decided to take as much time as I could justify over this. Jamie's chest rose and fell rapidly as I began smoothing lotion across his stomach, working downward in slow circles.

When my fingers brushed the base of his shaft, he inhaled sharply—a tiny, startled sound that made my own breath catch. His skin was impossibly soft there. I lifted him gently between thumb and forefinger, applying lotion in deliberate strokes from root to tip.

He made a cute little squeak when my thumb circled the ridge beneath his glans, a soft, involuntary sound that startled me back to awareness. The sunscreen had spread evenly by now, glistening against his flushed skin. Jamie's eyelids fluttered, not quite closing, as his hips twitched forward into my palm. My own pulse hammered in my throat as Jamie's penis began stiffening incrementally against my professional ministrations. A bead of moisture welled at his tip, pearling against the zinc-streaked skin. I suddenly realised I had to stop.

"All done!" I announced abruptly, giving his butt a playful slap to draw a line under things. For one moment Jamie blinked at me, lips parted in confusion, his arousal stalled mid-transformation. But instead of complaining, he smiled at me and chirped, "Thanks, Mrs. Hicks!" before bending to retrieve his crimson speedo. I watched, mesmerized, as the fabric clung to damp skin, the outline of his half-hardness visible.

I felt almost relieved to see him retrieve his toy snorkel from his bag a few minutes later, before he and Owen bounded off over the dunes towards the ocean.

OWEN'S JOURNAL

The moment my feet hit the sand I felt free and wild. Jamie whooped beside me as we tore across the dunes, him leaping like a gazelle over the taller clumps of grass while I took the low route, my bare feet kicking up sprays of golden sand. Once we got on to the proper bit of the beach there was a breeze and the wind snatched our laughter away the second it left our mouths.

Jamie kept pace with me on the dry sand, his shorter legs a blur of motion. But when we hit the firmer stretch near the waterline, where the tide had packed the sand tight, I started to pull away. My stride lengthened instinctively, arms pumping as I devoured the coastline in great gulps of motion.

I didn't realize I'd pulled ahead until Jamie's laughing shout reached me from some way behind. "Showoff!" he called, but I wasn't showing off, it just felt good to do something athletic that suited me again.

For the first time in months, my body felt like mine again, my legs the ones that used to eat up the football pitch. The salt air burned in my lungs as I pushed harder, relishing the burn in my hamstrings. Ahead, the lifeguard flags marked our boundary of permitted territory, but for now, it felt as though the beach stretched endlessly.

As I neared the waterline I slowed, making my way into the foam with a big smile on my face. A rogue wave crashed higher up the shore than expected. I veered left to avoid it, but Jamie, ever the chaos magnet, ran straight through the froth. He emerged gasping. "C-cold!" he managed through chattering teeth, but his grin told me he was ready for more adventures.

I decided to see for myself and walked toward the horizon. The first wave hit me mid-thigh with a shock of cold that made me yelp in an embarrassingly high pitch. I mean I screamed like a girl! Jamie yelped beside me as the next one crashed against his stomach. He recovered fast, kicking a spray of saltwater directly into my face before darting away with a shriek.

"Oi!" I wiped stinging eyes and lunged after him, the water tugging at my steps and slowing me down. Jamie zigzagged through the shallows, his laughter bright between gasps whenever a wave caught him off-balance.

A larger swell rolled in, the kind that looks deceptively smooth until it's right on top of you. Jamie saw it coming and planted his feet, arms out like a surfer. "Jump on three!" he called over his shoulder.

The wave crested just as we sprang upward. For one weightless moment, we hung suspended above the churning water—Jamie's knees tucked to his chest, my arms windmilling for balance—before crashing down into the froth. I came up sputtering to find Jamie already up and ready to go, his hair plastered to his forehead.

"Again!" he demanded, hopping from foot to foot as another swell approached. This time when we jumped, Jamie grabbed my wrist mid-air, sending us spinning sideways into the spray.

The third wave knocked us sideways into each other, Jamie's elbow clipping my ribs as we surfaced laughing. He spat out a mouthful of seawater and grinned, pulling the snorkel from where it dangled around his neck. "Watch this," he said, fitting it over his face before lying flat in the waist-deep water. His body disappeared beneath the surface, only the snorkel's tip poking above the waves like a periscope.

I counted the seconds until he popped up gasping. "S'not great," he admitted, shaking water from his ears. "the waves keep going over the pipe." He offered me the snorkel anyway, but when I tried it, saltwater flooded my mouth on the first swell.

Jamie tugged the snorkel back, his eyes lighting up. "I know! Let's go to the saltwater bathing pool. I remember there’s one around the cliff. Hardly anyone knows it's there."

"We're not allowed past the flags, Jamie."

He rolled his eyes. "It's just around the bend! Your mum won't even know." Already he was wading toward the rocky outcrop separating our beach from the hidden cove, the snorkel bouncing against his chest.

"Jamie!" I shouted, running after him, "Jamie! It's my birthday, and if we get caught I AM telling Mum it was your fault! "

"We...won't.....be caught!" he shouted over his shoulder.

As we rounded the cliff, we found a small rocky cove, were a pool was apparently hidden away at the top of some rocks. I guess you were supposed to get to it from above where I could just about see some step leading down. Jamie was right though, there was nobody to be seen. And from here you couldn't see the pool yet either.

I followed him up over the rocks which were sharper than they looked—each barnacle-crusted edge biting into my palms as I hauled myself up after him. He moved like a crab, all knees and elbows, his crimson speedo flashing between gaps in the jagged stone. Twice I slipped, but fortunately I righted myself both times and wasn’t hurt.

"Almost there!" Jamie's voice floated back. Then suddenly he disappeared, his bare feet vanishing over the final ledge.

When I crested the ridge, the view punched the breath from my lungs. The saltwater pool wasn't just hidden, it was secret , carved into the cliff itself like a giant's bathtub. Turquoise water shimmered beneath us, so clear I could see the mosaic of pebbles lining the bottom.

Jamie whooped and jumped before I could reach him, a reckless arc ending in a cannonball that sent up a plume of spray. His shriek when he surfaced was pure agony.

"F-fuck it's c-cold! " Teeth chattering, he doggy-paddled toward the center, arms slicing through water that looked tropical but clearly wasn't.

"I don’t think I’ve heard you swear before!" I laughed.

“You must have?”

I dipped a toe in and recoiled. The pool was just freezing! How was it so cold on such a warm day?

"Get your head under, then it's not so bad," Jamie shouted as he floated on his back, arms outstretched like he was trying to absorb all warmth of the sunlight.

I chickened out of several attempts, bobbing my head downwards and back up at the last minute still dry three or four times until finally doing it. Jamie was right, for some reason it felt warmer once I was fully in.

"How is this full of sea water?" I asked, "Surely the tide doesn't come this far up?"

"I dunno, I guess it must do?" he shrugged. "Owen?"

"Huh?"

"Do you fancy skinny dipping? There's no one around up here."

"I don't think so, I'm cold enough as it is."

"Don't be shy, it'll be fun. Come on!"

I sighed, watching Jamie scramble out of the pool with all the grace of a wet puppy shaking itself off. His swimsuit peeled away with one energetic hop, landing nearby on a barnacle-encrusted rock. "See? Easy!" he declared, arms spread wide before raising his arms as though he was about to execute a graceful dive, only to throw himself clumsily in. It did look fun.

"Fine," I muttered, sinking lower until the water touched my chin. My fingers felt numb and clumsy, tugging at fabric that suddenly seemed glued to my hips. Jamie's laughter bounced off the cliff walls when my swim shorts finally floated free like some weird jellyfish. I balled them up and lobbed them onto the rocks.

"You could've just got out and taken them off normally!" he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I did take them off normally," I grumbled.

Jamie splashed me, his grin sharp as broken glass. "You're so shy, Owen. I've seen you naked before, remember?"

There was no point in arguing so I splashed water at him and he swam off with a shout. Before long the snorkel came down over his face again and he was off, swimming face down, occasionally surfacing to give me excited reports about how well it worked. It did occur to me that there was absolutely nothing to see in the empty concrete pool, but I figured I'd let him have his fun.

At one point he came floating towards me face down like a little shark, before surfacing to tell me with a giggle that he could see my willy.

"Well, don't look." I moaned.

"I think I will." He said with a mischievous grin, before diving again.

"Oi!" I patted him on the back and he came up again, "Stop being weird. Also, I'd just like to point out how cold it is."

"Duh...I'm in here too remember. It's because your just standing around, not swimming. Oh...." He said as my meaning finally dawned on him, "I...I'm sorry I made fun of you in the bath that time. I was just showing off. There's nothing wrong with...you....you know."

"Uggh! Jamie!" I complained, and made my way to the side. I crawled out and located my shorts, putting them on again.

"Owen, don't be like that," said Jamie, following me out, "wait for me."

I went and sat shivering on the rocks. We'd stupidly left our towels with Mum!

Jamie plopped down beside me, still dripping wet and completely unbothered by his nakedness. The rock was cold under my thighs, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just swung his legs back and forth, sending little droplets flying. "You’re shivering," he observed, poking my arm.

I hunched my shoulders, glaring at the horizon. "I’m fine."

"You’re not," Jamie insisted. He leaned closer, his damp hair brushing my shoulder. "Come on, Owen. Don’t be mad. I was only having fun. It’s your birthday. We’re supposed to be having fun."

A seagull screeched overhead, circling like it was judging my mood. Jamie tilted his head up to watch it, then just when I thought he was going to say something profound, he started making gull noises back at it. The ridiculousness of it tugged at the corner of my mouth despite myself.

Jamie noticed instantly. "There!" he crowed, jabbing a finger at my face. "I saw that! You almost smiled." He scooted closer, his bare hip pressing against mine. " Please stop being grumpy!"

"I'm not, I'm not!" I lied, but I really was trying to cheer up.

The sea breeze picked up, sending goosebumps prickling across my arms. Jamie scooted closer again until our shoulders pressed together. His skin warm despite the freezing dip. He tilted his head, studying me with that unnerving directness he had sometimes.

"Hey Owen," he said suddenly, "have you ever kissed anyone?"

I blinked. "You mean like a girl?"

Jamie rolled his eyes. "I mean not like your mum or aunt, yes. " He plucked a strand of seaweed from the rocks next to him and flicked it away.

"No," I admitted. "You?"

Jamie shook his head, sending droplets flying. "Nah. I never had the chance." He chewed his lip for a second, then nudged me with his elbow. "D'you wanna find out what it's like?"

I shrugged, my skin prickling under the wind. "I guess so."

Jamie just stared at me, seawater dripping off his nose. "Well?"

"Well what?"

He groaned dramatically and flopped onto his back across the rocks. "You're hopeless!" His bare feet kicked at the air.

Before I could form a reply Jamie surged back upright. His wet palms slapped against my cheeks, fingers hooking behind my head as he pulled me forward. His lips locked onto mine and I opened my mouth more in surprise than anything. When his tongue slid against mine, warm and insistent I froze, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. But then I started to kiss him back. I don't know why it happened. It went on for a while, until I felt short of breath. I could feel Jamie’s eyelashes flutter against my cheekbone, then just as suddenly, he flopped back onto the rock, arms splayed wide like a starfish.

I sat there, seawater dripping from my hair onto my knees, my lips tingling strangely. My brain had short-circuited somewhere between the shock of Jamie’s kiss and me not doing anything to stop him.

After what felt like minutes, I slowly reclined beside Jamie, laying gingerly on the cold, hard rock.

"Are you alive?" Jamie asked quietly.

"Yeah," I croaked, and after another long silence, “what did you do that for?”

"I felt like it.” More waves, more seagulls, more silence. “Are you angry with me?"

"No."

We lay watching seagulls circle for a little while longer. At one point he took my hand gently. I shut my eyes, not sure what to do. This was the last thing I needed, but I didn't want to push him away.

At last he said it was time to go. "Otherwise, you'll have to tell your mum that I took you out of sight, since you've already promised me that you'll snitch."

"It's my birthday," I laughed, "I'm not getting punished on my birthday."

So my made our way carefully back down the rocks, around the cliff and back across the open beach, before walking towards the dunes, back to where Mum and Amy where hopefully none the wiser. Away from the sea breeze, the sun felt warm enough to dry us off without needing a towel. And sure enough, we found Mum reading a book and Amy sunbathing. Neither seemed to have paid any attention to us while we were gone. No wonder Mum wanted to come to a Puericil beach, she obviously couldn't be bothered to watch for me!

Mum finally looked up from her book, her sunglasses sliding down her nose. "Hello boys! Did you have fun?" Her voice carried that particular tone of half genuine interest, half subtle probe for mischief.

"Brilliant time!" Jamie chirped, shaking out his wet hair with both hands. I felt myself blush.

"Good. I hope you're ready for more fun, because I've got frisbees!" She held up two brightly coloured discs, tossing one to Amy who'd sat up groggily from her sunbathing.

"Yes! We can play ultimate frisbee. Owen and me versus you two!" shouted Jamie.

But Mum had other ideas, and preferred to watch the three of us play from a safe distance. The frisbee arced overhead, spinning lazily against the blue sky before Jamie leaped and snatched it mid-air. His triumphant whoop turned into a yelp as he landed ankle-deep in a small hole some kid had dug, dropping the frisbee and nearly toppling into Amy. She dodged with a giggle, swiping the frisbee up while Mum cheered from the sidelines, her sundress flapping in the sea breeze.

"Cheater!" Jamie accused, but he was already scrambling after her, feet kicking up sprays of sand. I hung back watching Jamie as he zigzagged across the beach.

Mum tossed the second frisbee my way with a knowing smile. "You’re quiet," she remarked as I caught it one-handed. "Everything alright?"

"Fine," I muttered, hurling the disc toward Jamie. It veered off-course, clipping the edge of a sandcastle some toddler had abandoned. Jamie dove after it anyway, skidding on his knees through the wreckage with a dramatic groan.

"You’re supposed to throw it so we can catch it, Owen," Amy teased, twirling her own frisbee around one finger.

We played for a while, and it was kinda fun. But then my tummy started rumbling. I pointed this out and Mum announced that she'd brought a picnic, so we headed back to our spot in the dunes.

Jamie collapsed onto the picnic blanket like a puppet with its strings cut, his damp hair flopping into his eyes. "I’m starving," he announced, reaching for the nearest sandwich without looking, only to recoil when he saw what was being offered.. "Ugh. Who brings cucumber?"

Mum shot him a look over her sunglasses. "Growing boys need vegetables, Jamie Coombes."

Jamie made a show of gagging, tossing the offending sandwich toward me. I caught it mid-air and took an exaggerated bite just to annoy him. "Errggh, yuck! You got sand in it!" I complained.

Jamie laughed, "Of course, it's a sand-which isn't it?"

"Not funny."

Amy, ever the diplomat, nudged a tupperware box of sausage rolls toward Jamie and within seconds he was too busy demolishing one, flakes of pastry sticking to his chin.

I reached for a juice box and punctured it with the straw as I watched Jamie munching. I felt a totally irrational feeling of annoyance that he was acting like nothing happened between us before reminding myself that of course he was . I would have been pissed if he wasn't in front of Mum and Amy.

Instead, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the picnic blanket, systematically demolishing every edible thing within reach not containing a vegetable, while maintaining a running commentary on what food he loved and what he considered to be the spawn of Satan.

***

We chilled out for a little while after our food and then it was time for Jamie and I to go on our speedboat trip, which was one of my birthday presents. Mum insisted that we shower first, so we headed to the communal showers which were right on the beach. Mum, of course, took us into the Puericil ones which was very shaming. I mean just walking into them past all the “normal” people.

The shower room smelled a bit funny. It was sharp enough to make my nose scrunch as Mum ushered us in. Six shower heads glistened under the harsh fluorescent lights, three along each side and rear wall with the front area open to the wash basins. Privacy wasn’t exactly a priority here.

Jamie didn’t hesitate though. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his swim shorts and shimmied them down in one fluid motion, kicking them toward the bench with a wet smack, and for the third time today I saw his naked body. I fumbled with my own shorts, hyper aware of Mum’s gaze flicking between us. Jamie winked at me and I blushed and looked away before Mum noticed.

Once again, Amy washed me and Mum helped Jamie. I really resent not being trusted to wash myself even in this public situation, but the wash was no where near as thorough as when I have a bath. It was just enough to get rid of the sand and salt water. As Amy soaped me, I looked at the other two occupants in the room.

There was a younger boy—maybe ten—stood under the far shower-head with his back to me, shoulders hunched slightly as his mother scrubbed at his sandy hair. He giggled when she hit a ticklish spot near his ribs, squirming away only for her to reel him back by one wrist with practiced ease. "Hold still, Tommy," she chided, but her voice was warm. Tommy obediently froze, arms raised while she lathered soap down his spine. He caught me staring and stuck his tongue out at me before his mother turned him around to rinse off.

I turned to my right, where in complete contrast there was an older boy stood rigid under the spray, fists clenched at his sides. He looked practically like a grown man but was on the skinny side and he had no body hair at all. There was an old nurse attacking him with some sort of scrubbing brush. She scrubbed his back pretty roughly, leaving it pink where the brush had done it’s work.

"Turn!" the nurse barked, and he obeyed. His eyes locked onto the ceiling as she dragged the brush down his sternum, over his stomach and lower. I turned away before she started work on his not-so-privates, but I winced at the thought of that scrubbing brush. I later discovered from Mum that he likely lives in a children's home for Puericil boys. But fortunately for him, he looked like he must be old enough to leave soon!

I turned my attention to Jamie. Mum was rinsing him off and the water sluiced down his back in rivulets, catching the light before disappearing between his shoulder blades. I noticed the way his spine arched just a fraction when the water hit the small of his back. The way Mum’s thumb brushed absentmindedly against his hipbone while rinsing soap from his thighs.

"Earth to Owen." Amy snapped her fingers in front of my face, jolting me back to reality. She thrust a towel at my chest hard enough to make me stumble. "Dry off before you catch cold."

I grabbed the towel my face burning. What the hell was wrong with me? Across the room, Mum turned off the water and Jamie shook himself like a spaniel, droplets flying everywhere. He caught me staring again and wriggled his eyebrows. "Enjoying the show?"

I felt pretty cross about him saying that because it was embarrassing. Maybe if there hadn’t been six other people there including Mum, I would have seen the funny side, but as it was I just looked away grumpily.

I pushed away Amy's attempts to dry my hair and ignored her moaning, as I followed Jamie and Mum out, blinking into the sunshine.

“Sorry I made a face at you.” came a voice behind me. I turned to find the young boy smiling at me. “I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Oh, right. Well, no offence taken.”

“You talk funny.”
Some offence now taken.

“Shouldn’t you run along to your Mum?”

“I will in a sec. Don’t worry, I’m older than I look.”

“Ah, I should have guessed. Well, nice to meet you, um, whoever you are, but I’d best be going.”

“Jack.”

“Well, hello and goodbye Jack. See you ‘round.”

Was that rude? I didn’t know what else to say and Mum and the others were waiting.

***

We got kitted up on the dock for our boat ride, then had to walk down a wooden jetty to reach the boat. The life jacket took a while to get used to, its stiff orange fabric hugging me as the boat guy yanked the straps tighter. He looked like a beach bum from a film, long blonde hair and bronzed skin, wearing a Day-Glo vest and board shorts. But on closer inspection he was older than I first assumed, with sun damaged skin. "It’s gotta be snug," he grunted, his knuckles brushing my collarbone as he fastened the last buckle. Jamie stood beside me, already suited up and ready to go. His jacket looked absurdly oversized on him, swallowing his narrow shoulders whole.

"Ready?" Mum called from the wooden dock, waving us toward the speedboat. It bobbed about in the water, bright yellow against the deep blue, its engine growling like an impatient animal.

Jamie went first, scrambling down the ladder with zero hesitation. The boat rocked quite a bit as he stepped in, but he just laughed, arms windmilling for balance. When my turn came I was a lot more cautious, getting in carefully and sitting down straight away.

Then the engine roared to life, and suddenly we were shooting across the bay like a skimmed stone as I held on tight. Jamie sat beside me, giggling as we hit the first big wave. My stomach dropped during that split-second weightlessness before we slammed back down with a smack that sent water cascading over the bow. But once I felt more confident that we weren't about to be ejected into the sea at any moment, I began to relax and enjoy it. It was awesome!

"Faster!" Jamie shrieked at the driver, who grinned and cranked the throttle. The horizon tilted as we banked hard left and Jamie was flung against me. He wasn't even holding on all the time, sometime just trusting the momentum to keep him wedged in place while I white-knuckled the seat rail.

Too soon though, the boat slowed, it's engine dropping to a grumble as we glided back toward the dock. Jamie slumped against me with an exaggerated groan, as if the sheer disappointment weighed him down physically.

"Can we go again?" I shouted to the driver who shot me an apologetic grin over his shoulder. "I'm fully booked all afternoon, son." He nodded toward the queue already forming on the dock: a gaggle of kids bouncing in neon life jackets, their parents herding them along, and a group of teenagers. Jamie made a noise halfway between a whimper and a growl, flopping backward dramatically across the bench.

The man chuckled. killing the engine completely as we bumped against the rubber tyres hanging from the dock platform. He helped us clamber from the wobbling boat onto the dock.

I felt a little nervous seeing the line of teenagers I'd have to walk past, girls and boys, none of whom looked like Puericil boys, but then I saw Mum and Amy waiting.

"Did you have fun?" Mum asked, brushing damp hair off my forehead.

"I loved it!" I threw myself at Mum, arms locking around her waist with enough force to make her stumble back a step. For a second, just a second, I didn't care that I was thirteen (wait - fourteen!) and too old for this—that Jamie was watching, or that the normal teenagers queuing for the speedboats might see. Mum's arms tightened around me, one hand cradling the back of my head like I was still small enough to tuck under her chin.

Jamie cleared his throat pointedly behind us. I let go instantly, scrubbing at my nose with the back of my hand as Mum turned to him. "Thanks for letting me go with Owen, Mrs. Hicks," he said.

"You are very welcome sweetheart" she replied before gathering Jamie into a hug. He stiffened for half a heartbeat, then melted into it, his face disappearing into the curve of her neck.

The moment shattered when Amy hip-checked me aside to shove her phone in Mum's face. "Look! I got this epic slow-mo of Owen's face when the boat turned—" The video played on a loop: me, mouth open in a soundless scream, hair whipping sideways as the horizon tilted violently. Jamie cackled, grabbing for the phone while I made a lunge for it, but Mum held it aloft like a referee.

"It just caught me by surprise!" I whinged, "I'd like to have seen you on there!"

"Well there was only room for two, " Mum replied, "but we are all going dolphin spotting tomorrow!"

Tomorrow! And we weren't driving home and back. Instead we were staying the night in a hotel, right here. This was turning out to be the best birthday!

HELEN'S JOURNAL

Our first day at the beach went very well. I actually spent most of it with Amy, since Owen was off playing with his friend. We did have a nice picnic and I took them for tea at Nando's which went down well with them all. Owen seemed to enjoy his boat trip, and tomorrow we are going dolphin spotting, which Amy and I can do as well. So a nice, relaxing day was had by all. In fact Owen was so happy after the boat ride that he gave me a public display of affection! I haven’t had a public hug like that from him for a long time.

We did see one curious sight while making our way back from the beach to our hotel. At the top of the beach, between the sand and the road is a boardwalk. It's lined with ice cream kiosks and amusement arcades, and I let the group take advantage of both. On the way past, we saw the lifeguard's main office. I should point out here, that at Perrow the lifeguards don't just keep people safe in the sea. They are all trained Puericil carers, and provided your boys remain on the beach within their patrol area, you can safely leave them for a while, which I admit was one of the big attractions of coming here. There are a few Puericil only beaches in other areas, but this mixed beach was the closest thing in our area.

One of the responsibilities that all Puericil carers have is that of disciplining boys when required to keep them safe. And by chance this is what we happened to witness on the way past. Two boys of around Owen's age had been marched to the lifeguard's office for the offence of swimming outside the lifeguard's flags, and ignoring two requests to move back into the safe area. I know this, because it was announced to anyone in ear shot. It seems, they believe in punishing their temporary charges publicly here. Two lifeguards had rounded them up, both young, though older than the boys, they looked like late teens or early twenties

The first lifeguard, bronzed and businesslike with her ponytail swinging, marched the boys to a raised platform outside the office.

"These boys persisted in swimming outside the flags after ignoring two warnings to return to the safe area," she announced to the gathering crowd, her voice carrying over the boardwalk chatter. The boys stood shoulder-to-shoulder, dripping onto the sun-bleached wood, one staring defiantly at his toes while the other chewed his lip.

The second lifeguard, arms crossed over her chest, rattled off the consequences like a judge sentencing delinquents: "Martin Clarke, six stokes of the paddle, ten minutes reflection and public display. Louis Wilson, as ringleader, eight strokes of the paddle, ten minutes reflection and public display. " The defiant one snorted, earning himself a sharp cuff to the back of the head from the woman. "Strip."

I held my breath as the boys fumbled with their swim shorts. They wound up nude apart from their blue wristbands denoting Puericil status (these I had told Owen and Jamie, where simply in case they got lost). The first boy's body was a little soft and he carried some puppy fat. The other had a more athletic build, lithe with a hint of natural muscle.

The first lifeguard selected a paddle from a rack inside the office. It was a wide, perforated plastic that made me wince in sympathy at the sight of it. "You first," she said to the toe-starer, nudging him over a padded bench. He went without protest, folding himself over it submissively. Six crisp strokes followed, each crack! of the paddle echoing dramatically off the boardwalk shops. The boy didn’t make a sound, but by the time she finished his butt cheeks were cherry-red and he was sniffling miserably as he hopped in place, hands fluttering behind him rubbing his bottom. A mixture of sounds came from the gathered audience, ranging from tutters of disapproval from a stern looking older lady and mocking laughter from small children.

Louis clenched his jaw as the lifeguard pointed at him. "Your turn," she said, paddle tapping against her thigh. He hesitated just long enough for the second lifeguard to step forward and grip his elbow. "None of that," she muttered, steering him toward the bench. Louis planted his feet, shoulders tensing, but the lifeguard was stronger, maneuvering him face down over the padding with practiced ease. One broad hand pressed between Louis' shoulder blades while the other pinned his wrists to the bench's edge. While her colleague waited patiently she addressed the boy loud enough for us all to hear;

“If you don’t want your bottom punished in front of all of these people, well, you should have thought of that earlier, before you were a naughty boy, shouldn't you?”

If he made any reply, I couldn’t hear it from where I was. Her first stroke landed with a sharp crack across his backside that made Owen flinch beside me. Louis kicked out instinctively, but the lifeguard held firm. By the fourth stroke, his breathing had gone ragged.

"Perhaps this will teach you not to be such a naughty...."

Crack!

"...little..."

Crack!

"... boy!" lectured the lifeguard as she let him have it with the paddle.

By the sixth stoke, tears streaked his cheeks. The eighth left him gasping into the bench, fingers clawing at nothing. When they hauled him upright, his face was blotchy with humiliation and pain, his usual defiance crumpled.

"Hands on heads," the girl barked. I jumped myself! Both boys obeyed, though Louis was now sniffling. They were positioned facing the ocean, two bare, pink-bottomed silhouettes against the sunset while tourists and locals alike slowed to gawk.

I caught myself leaning forward, throat tight. Martin, the softer boy, kept blinking rapidly like he was fighting tears too. Louis stared fixedly at the horizon, jaw working. Something maternal rose in my heart, the urge to pull them both into a hug, to murmur it's over now against their hair. But Amy was already tugging my arm ("Mum, move , I want candy floss"), and Owen's expression hovered between fascination and horror. So I let myself be led away, though I glanced back twice. Punishment is one thing, if they had put their safety at risk, but what a shame they did not get any hugs!

(End of File)